LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap. Copyright No. 

Shelf,„S,3C^ 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 







A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



Cycle of Sonnets 



EDITED BY 

MABEL LOOMIS TODD 



2fr 



VI 






BOSTON 

ROBERTS BROTHERS 

1896 



75^3 



Copyright, 1896, 
By Roberts Brothers. 

All rights reserved. 



Santitersttg Press: 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U. S. A. 



DEDICATION 

To my Immortal Love, who soareth fair 
Wrapt in the clouding of her golde?i hah', 
Who lookest down on me with shining eyes 
Transfigured with the joy of Paradise, 
With light transcending light, as to sustain 
My darkened soul so shrivelled with its pain — 
Who was so happy that Heaven hushed to sleep, 
Nor can awaken howsoever I weep, 
Nor can come back, whatever my despair, 
I send this message — it will reach her there. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



PREFACE 



THESE sonnets, bequeathed to me by one the 
tragedy of whose life it has been mine to know, 
were written in mature years, and in the splendor of 
his first great love for the fair girl who died during 
the second year of their engagement. 

It is evident that the poems had not been seen by 
her, — perhaps because of his high spiritual reserve, 
perhaps because he wished at a later season to lay 
them all at her feet. 

It is evident, too, that they were intended for pub- 
lication eventually, and among them was found the 
dedication. 

Seeing her first in spring, the days of Nature's 
awakening surrounded him with an atmosphere of joy, 
through which the pathos of his former life some- 
times penetrated. On Memorial Day especially, the 
pain of a past loss broke forth in a lament which even 
the presence of his absorbing love had hardly power 



IO PREFACE 

to soothe. But the summer was transfigured with 
magical light, and the short winter days were no more 
dull and cold. Another spring dawned upon this rare 
and radiant love, and then the great darkness fell. 

When she died, those who knew him knew that he 
died also. 

M. L. T. 

Amherst, October, 1896. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



T FELT a new strange Presence at my side 

That radiant-plumaged followed where I went, 
And as if near to Heaven my heart was sent 
To swift wild beating like a swollen tide ; 
Glory encompassed me — I could not hide, 
But blinded as with suns, mine eyes I bent, 
Nor could deny the Power omnipotent 
That from my soul swept all the dark aside : 
Like golden shadows flung from gates on high 
The solemn splendor sudden fell apart, 
And straight I was sharp hewn with ecstasy, 
And knew thee mine, O angel that thou art, 
Whose name is Love, whose flaming sword dost lie 
Plunged to the hilt — here, here within my heart. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



II 



TF thou hadst come to me in any guise 

■■■ Save that thou wearest, sweet, I should have known 

The vision strange, and kept thy vacant throne 

Still tenantless ; but when I saw thine eyes 

Compelling mine with their high truth to rise 

And scan Life's noblest peaks, the light that shone 

My dazzled soul o'ercame ; prostrate and prone 

I fell before thee — smitten with ecstasies. 

Love ! hadst thou sooner come, it were too soon ; 

I needed sight of one more spring aflame, 

One April's miracles, ere the May moon 

Should on the azure crescent write thy name ; 

My soul were all too cramped held it not boon 

Of Heaven thou broughtest, I, through Love can claim. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 13 



III 



"\ ~\ 7"HEN first I saw thee, sweet, the sunlight fell 

^ Flooding thy brow ; and dazzled with its gleam 
I thought, ' Some saint of Guido's, in a dream 
Of mounting wings, has broken the canvas spell, 
And flown to earth the heavenly dream to tell ; ' 
Now, that I worship, should the worship seem 
For saint too human, let my love redeem 
Till to the saint's high stature it shall swell. 
Before thou earnest, lo ! I was as nought ; 
Into my soul the revelation came 
Like a great rush of splendid music, caught 
From swing of worlds and stars created new. 
I live again — the miracle is wrought 
Because, O sweet, Love's gates I have passed through. 



14 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



IV 



r ~PHB Spring has broken to flowers beneath thy feet, 

And lilies in thy virgin pathway grow, 
And the young violets awakening, show 
Their sky-enamoured souls to thee, O sweet, 
With passion of divine insistence, meet 
From flower to flower. The purple hyacinths blow 
'Neath thine eyes' sunshine, and I hear the flow 
Of the near river — like thy pulses' beat. 

my beloved, lo ! thy presence fair 
Exalts me as the sun exalts the day ; 

1 am upswept on impulse high as prayer 
Into the ether of thy heavenly way, 

And should'st thou deign to love me, I will bear 
Thy lilied heart on mine as earth bears May. 



I 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 15 



'THE trees were only budded yesterday, 

Hiding their souls in a mysterious haze- 
To-day their snowy blossoms star the ways, 
And Spring is rushing onward fleet and gay : 
— So with my love, O sweet ! I could not stay 
Its sudden flower, but in a heavenly maze 
I borrowed of the Spring what Spring repays, 
The transport of its music-hearted May. 
Ah ! this vast joy is all too vast to tell : — 
Go watch the flowers that in the sunshine glow, 
And let their speech be mine ; the asphodel, 
The rose, the pansy's purple deeps, may know 
Language more fit for Love — yet listening well 
Hear'st thou not Love in all the flowers that blow ? 



1 6 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



VI 

T) ECAUSE it rains to-day the flowers are sad ; 

■*-* They know, perchance, that smiling soft and gay 

My happy sweetheart will not pass their way, 

So weep : — I too should weep, unless I had 

Her presence like a flower to make me glad ; 

— The book she bids me read aside I lay 

For the great book of Love, and smiling say, 

' Not strange that such sweet knowledge maketh mad.' 

Outside, upon the flowers the rain still beats, 

We watch the wind-blown grass, yet do not know, 

Love, in vague way, but that the sunshine greets 

The daisies' eyes from sun that floods us so, 

And should I pluck from out those marguerites 

One bloom for her, its tears would cease to flow. 



A CYCLE OF SO WETS 17 



VII 

A PROTEST 



"\ ~K THY should I covet, since Love places bar, 

The clear, thin ice of your reserve to break ? 
Perhaps my soul may too supremely make 
Its needs apparent, and appealing jar 
A fine, pure silence purest speech would mar. 
Yet if the sunshine's turbulence can shake 
Roses' deep hearts to view, then I may take 
A swift survey, and know you as you are. 
Therefore I am content, though to my sight 
The splendor of your dreams you may deny. 
Yet sometime should there come a moonless night, 
You may not weep so long, that I am nigh, 
And should I read your silences aright, 
The light might blind as from some sun on high. 



1 8 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 

VIII 

MEMORIAL DAY 

INSURGENT beats my heart to-day, at sound 

Of wailing instruments that slay the air 
With requiems sharp and vivid as despair ; 
And to mine eyes there comes a vision crowned 
With lilies, snowy as were strewn around 
My silent dead's unbreathing bosom, where 
They lay, nor half so beautiful and fair 
As he, calm smiling in his sleep profound. 
I plant, while flowers on countless graves are strewn, 
This flower of Grief, because he will not wake. 
I weep in Love's Gethsemane alone. 
O Love, thou art too pitying to forsake, 
Be with me till my weeping is outgrown, 
And yet, O Love, it seems my heart must break. 






A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



IX 



T OVE, ere thou cam'st, in happy dreams of night 
J -"' I saw thine eyes of Heaven the heavens look 

through, 
So when thy hands within mine own I drew, 
My heart was shak'n to rapture infinite 
In that old time when young springs broke to sight, 
And, violet-stirred, their loosened pulses flew ; 
When morning's scimitar the white mists slew 
I searched in vain for that mysterious light ; 
Something intangible seemed always nigh 
That shaped to vision only when I slept, 
I caught the fluttering echoes of a sigh, 
As air that moved with great tears softly wept. 
Now thou art here — nor wilt thy love deny, 
And every chord within my soul is swept. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



f~\ RADIANT maiden with thy radiant eyes 

^"^ That even through their drooping lashes, seem 

— Like shut-in suns — to send out mystic gleam, 

Constant, thou breathest ether of the skies ; 

Thou art thyself the breath of Paradise, 

Thou art the fair white lily of my dream, 

Thou art the very flower of Love, supreme — 

Thou art my soul's perfected harmonies. 

I take thee to this happy heart of mine, 

This happy heart of mine, whose swiftened beat 

Is of my lofty worship but a sign, 

And hold thee templed there as saint. O sweet. 

Thou art the lily of my dream, divine 

Thou art my dream of Heaven, fulfill'd, complete. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XI 



T^\EAR, not because the new-blown lilies fling 

*~* Their golden-hearted welcomes as you go 

Your happy way, nor that you smiling show 

The wild flower's grace, nor yet because you sing 

In chorus with the birds, unwondering 

As a young Nightingale at overflow 

Of your own joy, is why I love you so — 

But that one April morning when you wept 

Some April grief away, you let me see 

— Like an unsullied treasure ocean-kept — 

How starry white a woman's soul might be ; 

It is, that then some force within me leapt 

And smote to life the God that slept in me. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XII 



"DECAUSE the lilacs, purple unaware, 

And hawthorn buds divinely opening, show 
A thousand tender blushes on their snow, 
Because the morning-glories climbing, bear 
Their soundless chimes exultant thro' the air, 
And butterflies their secrets whisper low 
To cowslips in the valleys, as they go, 
I tell my love to thee, who art most fair, 
Because the busy swallows dart away, 
The soft young grasses for their nests to bring, 
Because the blue-birds, fired with joy of day, 
Sweeping to meet the coming sunrise sing, 
I dare to sing, lured by the eyes of May, 
To thee, to thee who art the soul of Spring. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 23 



XIII 



T OVE, listen to the Spring — what can I say 
■*-"* That would be half as wonderful as this — 
Its many voices breathing out their bliss 
In outspread arms of the enchanting day ; 
Something bewildering seems to find its way 
Into the blossoming flowers, the wind's soft kiss, 
The sky with its o'er-azuring abyss, 
The buttercups that toward the sunshine sway, 
And one gold bird, diviner than the rest, 
Sings with a wild, mad sweetness that is new, 
Nor even knows how the strange longing grew, 
As if my love's white passion sweeping through 
Had poured itself to Spring's unconscious breast. 



24 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XIV 

T CANNOT sleep ; O Love, with Love's unrest 
I watched the infant moon that knew the Day 
Shine for a little while, then go away 
Cradled upon the Night's majestic breast ; 
And I, in this new darkness, am impressed 
As with a glory hidden, like the play 
Of rainbows never to be flashed away, 
Nay, even the stars throb as with power repressed. 
What is it stirs the illimitable Night 
As if a great heart in its bosom beat ? 
I am perplext, O Love, but it is sweet 
To know perplexment that is all delight, 
And in the dim, mysterious Night to meet 
The unveiled wonder of Love's infinite. 



A CYCLE OF SOiYA'ETS 



XV 



r\ SAD-MOUTHED virgin with thy perfect face, 

^^ And mystic glory of thy gleaming hair, 

With thy rapt eyes, I wonder how I dare 

Do aught, than silent kneeling as for grace 

Before thy soul's white shrine, my own abase 

And with Love's rosary to count a prayer ! 

For every thought of thee, who art so fair, 

May win for me at last some lowly place. 

Around thy lips the tender shadows play, 

Prophetic of some woe that may be thine, 

Smile till thou shalt have smiled them all away — 

And in thine eyes the look is so divine 

I need a thousand rosaries to pray, 

Poor human pilgrim, at thy heavenly shrine. 



26 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XVI 

T OVE — let me call you Love, for I can say 

-*— ' ' No other word that will my soul express — 

Why have you come to me so late, unless 

The perfect chord were reached but through delay? 

Now I can watch you in Love's closest way, 

And let my restless heart its needs confess 

In mighty hushing of your tenderness. 

And yet I sigh that for your golden day 

I can but give you twilight, wet with rain. 

Sweet, why so late that I can give no more — 

Yet scorched and scarred with fires of burning pain, 

I know Love's value better than before, 

And from your affluence I will seek to gain 

Only one moonlit ray, from bliss brimmed o'er. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 2f 



XVII 



T HAD not learned Life's vastness to descry, 

-*• Nor knew what it could bring, until I read 

In thy dear eyes, brimming with tears unshed, 

Love's breadth and depth. Then in a transport high 

As the strong currents of a river fly 

From narrow boundaries to the sea outspread, 

So I, impetuous, to thy heart was led, 

Glad and content forever to be nigh. 

Ah ! since thou lov'st me, I can understand 

What depth of poverty was mine before. 

Yet now, as with a miser's grasping hand, 

Less than the whole I should outreach for more, 

But, giving all may make my soul expand 

Till chance I shall be worthier to adore. 



28 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XVIII 

f~\ THOU who holdest Heaven within thine eyes, 

^-^ Vouchsafe to grant my prayer, and let their light 

That yesterday shone radiant to my sight, 

To-day be not withdrawn. For in them lies 

All that I dream and hope of Paradise, 

And thou art Queen of all the world by right 

As Queen of Spring, and I will be thy knight, 

Ready to make for thee all sacrifice. 

How swiftly pass the days ! Two moons ago 

I had not met thee — then on Dawns outspread 

It seemed as if the rose forgot to blow, 

As if across the heavens the line of red 

Barred in its fairer light, but now I know 

All that was hidden, by thee interpreted. 






A CYCLE OF SONNETS 29 

XIX 

THE DEAD BIRD 

f~\ GENTLE heart, with tears to raining sent 

^^ At sight of thy dead bird, be comforted ; 

For all its life was song, thy lips have said, 

And saidst thou this of me where'er I went, 

Then to be dead were only to be sent 

Into new song, but sung by thee instead, 

And I will be thy bird. Lift up thine eyes, 

And let me hush thee back to thy content. 

Yes ! I will be thy singer, though with voice 

Like a poor linnet's, not the voice divine, 

Yet thou hast lifted me, because thy choice — 

To where I see the wings of music shine, 

And in thy pure devotion, I rejoice. 

Faint-voiced or clear, the lark's high Heaven is mine. 



3° A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XX 



HPHE expectant Dawn watches the coming sun 
■*■ Pale with the mists that in the east delay, 
Haunted ineffably with dreams of Day, 
Till at last meeting, Dawn and Day are one. 
Thou art the Day, O sweet, with songs o'errun, 
And I the Dawn, glad in thy light to stay ; 
Glad, though the glory should be borne away — 
Glad, though the wondrous singing should be done, 
For whatsoe'er Life brings, though tears should flow, 
I shall believe its mystery divine, 
And by Love's power to grieve, Love's power shall know, 
Nor question aught denied, if thou art mine. 
Nay ! even if the fickle sun should go, 
The splendor still in thy dear eyes will shine. 



A CYCLE OF SOAA'ETS 



XXI 



51 



T TNLOCK thy gates, O Day, and spill the wine 
^ From out thy mighty press, till it shall run 
And drown the heavens, and red engulf the sun, 
Struggling to rise ; then with a noiseless sign 
Let the full stream subside, and leave divine 
The rescued sun enthroned ; and not yet done 
Melt all thy heavenly jewels into one, 
And in thy sapphire splendor, radiant shine, 
And I and my beloved, hand in hand, 
Thy coming will await, and with thy light 
Burning above us, in a hush will stand 
Rapt and exultant at the shining sight, 
As of the wonders of a promised land, 
And be baptized of thee, as angels might. 



32 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XXII 

T OOK deep down in my soul and you will see 
-*-*' The color of the June — the radiant play 
Of yester's sun, the passion of the Day 
Outwrought in gold, and every bud and bee, 
And floods of butterflies that poured past me 
In rain of yellow splendor winged away 
Till buried in syringas' snow they lay. 
I hold them all in memory, as free 
To take as June to give. No flower that grew 
And glittered in the grass escaped my eyes ; 
The buttercups, gay nodding, softly blew — 
A tinge of rose half blushed behind the skies — 
All June was mine, and yet the June I knew 
Shone forth transfigured in your radiant eyes. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 33 



XXIII 



A ND we will wander, this imperial day, 
"^ Like happy children in the fields and lanes, 
And listen to the locusts' jubilant strains, 
And breathe the perfume of the new mown hay, 
And see the barberries clustering by the way — 
Not scarlet lit, but flecked with scarlet stains, — 
And watch the azure that the sky attains, 
And see the hills in their divine array ; 
And 'mid the beauty wilt thou lift thine eyes, 
And let me joy of Love within them read — 
Not with the look that sometimes in them lies, 
As if thy coming wings had been decreed, 
But as some angel who great Love can prize — 
Angel, more heavenly for this heavenly need. 



34 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XXIV 

A LL hail, O Queen, that comest with Summer's 
**• tread, 

Whose eyes outrival the noonday skies, in blue, 
Whose face is like the sun's uprising through 
Morn's golden clouds, that stream above its head, 
I see the birds with bosoms flashing red 
Hover above thee, as if listening to 
Thy happy voice, and hear them trill anew 
Diviner notes that they have borrowed. — 
How shall I, fitting, my allegiance show ? 
The wild rose opens as thou passest by, 
The daisy bares for thee its breast of snow, 
The winds salute thee tenderly — but I 
Can only kiss thy hand, that thou mayst know 
Thou rulest well, since at thy feet I lie. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS. 35 



XXV 



f~\ CRUEL life ! so prodigal of pain, 
^-^ If pitiless to some, you scatter blight, 
Forget your craft, and only through delight 
Let my soft dove be taught. Keep unprofane 
Her gentle eyes, from the tempestuous rain 
That beats from anguish that is infinite — 
Nor let her wings be pierced in upward flight. 
Willing, my soul the arrow's wound would gain, 
If she to the blue heavens might scarless rise. 
My heart would break, if in the opening day 
The glory should be quenched in her young eyes. 
Yet left to judge, how should I dare to say 
O Life, that I would have it otherwise, 
Come joy, come anguish, than the Supreme way ! 



36 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XXVI 

1 1 7"ERE I a cloud lifted above the heat, 

Swept by the impassioned Summer breezes by, 
And wert thou, best beloved, but the sky, 
Then I would drift, drift, drift — the Dawn to meet — 
Until I heard thy great heart softly beat 
In the broad wonderment of blue on high, 
And there, with joy ineffable would lie 
Hushed in majestic refuge and retreat. 
But when the larks' songs should no longer flow. 
And darkness like a shadow seemed to sway, 
Then higher, higher, higher, I would go 
Dreaming new love to tell the coming Day, 
And all of bliss as all of Heaven should know, 
Bearing with me thine azure kiss away. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 37 



XXVII 



T LOVE thee as the Summer loves the sky, 
As night the rising of the crescent moon, 
As butterflies the splendor of the noon, 
As the wild rose the thrushes' ecstasy ; 
For thou art Nature's own to sing or sigh, 
Giving to every mood responsive tune. 
Thou art a minstrel with the hope of June 
Flooding my heart with constant melody. 
The flowers with thee their happy secrets share, 
And bloom as if thy sunshine to requite, 
And orioles, lured by glitter of thy hair, 
With thee are intimate and stay their flight 
As knowing thou art Empress of the air, 
With song outrivalling theirs in its delight. 



38 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XXVIII 

T AST night as moonlight down the mountain steep 

*-** Fell noiselessly upon the lilies blown, 

I wondered if its light more saintly shone 

For having kissed thee in thy saintly sleep. 

I wondered if the tinkling bells of sheep 

Roused as with day, into thy dreams had grown 

Like the vague music of some mystic zone, 

Or if thou heard'st the night dews softly weep. 

Haply the night was so supremely fair 

Thou wert awake, and wistful watched the moon 

That seemed to sail toward thee, as to compare 

Its heart with thine, and heard'st aeolian tune 

Swept from the pines, and breathed a virgin prayer 

Whiter than all the lilies blown in June. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 39 



XXIX 



T WAITED Summer while the hyacinths blew : - 

I thought I knew its affluence and grace, 
Ere, beloved, I had seen your face, 
And yet, till now, Summer I never knew : 
Beneath the sky's magnificence of blue 
The light-winged swallows dart, as if to trace 
A pathway for my soul that needs more space 
And rarer air, to fit itself for you : — 
The wild-rose flush is fairer, and the breeze, 
Tossing white daisy billows to and fro, 
Murmurs strange secrets, while upon the trees 
Trembles a light, divine as overflow 
From some immortal sun, and thrushes seize 
And bear to Heaven, sweet raptures that I know. 



4o A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XXX 

FOR ROSES 

"\70U brought a dream of beauty, wondrous fair, 
A Hid in your roses, with their blush and bloom — 
Something that thrilled the twilight's violet gloom 
As gold-winged butterflies the Summer air. 
I needed but to close my eyes, and where 
Darkness was slowly gathering in the room, 
There fell a flush of light that seemed to loom 
And to the o'erhanging clouds its color bear : 
Perchance perfumes of flowers some charm may own 
Shadows to lift — for when I turned to see 
Whether the night were moonless still, there shone 
The moon of your sweet love to answer me, 
And though its light upon the flowers was thrown 
Its very splendor made me turn — and sigh. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 41 



XXXI 



f~\ THOU who wear'st the Summer's smiling grace, 

^^ Whose golden hair shines like the daffodils, 

Whose voice is like a joyous lark that trills 

Its matins to the east, and whose fair face 

Holdest among the lilies fairest place, 

To know that I am in thy presence fills 

My soul with gladness, as when 'neath the hills 

Through veins of earth the Spring's warm currents race. 

The flower bells that thou gav'st me yesterday, 

With words that never more can be unsaid, 

All night in sweet delirium seemed to sway 

As if the chimes erysian that they played 

Proclaimed to angels in mysterious way 

All earth, through Love, into all Heaven is made. 



42 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XXXII 

*~PHE sunset light fell on my Love and me ; 
-^ My Love, whose eyes are like a summer day, 
Flushing the gloom of purple clouds that lay 
Like fire-winged birds, sailing the sky and sea. 
From scabbard of the night drawn silently, 
A flaming sword the horizon seemed to slay, 
And radiant-shafted rainbows shot away 
And the day died in opal ecstasy. 
I saw her smile as chance the angels do, 
Who, calm in Heaven, eternal beauty know ; 
Nor yet could speak, the while the darkness grew, 
And, black- winged, blotted out the world below. 
Yet with her hand in mine, a light I knew 
More wonderful than sky or sea could show. 



A CYCLE OF SONXETS 43 



XXXIII 



r~* I VEN the lily of your love, O sweet, 

^-* I take it as I might some violet star 

Plucked from the Heavens immeasurably far, 

And brought to me with all its light replete, 

Piercing my inmost soul, with gladness meet 

For such high gift — yet lest some breath should mar 

As lily's petals touched profanely are, 

I hide it 'neath my bosom's surging beat 

Sacred as death — this infinite unrest 

Eears me to such high transport I can keep 

The sweet remembrance even in my sleep, 

Nor dare I lift my drooping eyelids, lest 

Shining through mists of Love — for Love must weep - 

You see the lily trembling in my breast. 



44 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XXXIV 

YESTERDAYS 

"DELOVED, yesterdays in which you came 
Are counted all, and often I have said 
This Summer holds a thousand Junes, and red 
Of its great burning roses, puts to shame 
All those that bloomed before this oriflamme 
Swept the whole world to glow : — Now I can thread 
The labyrinth of your soul and be Love-led, 
Find erewhile hidden place for which I aim, 
Nor need long wander, for by lilies strewn 
And lifted by your heart-beats into heap 
Of white and shining beauty, will be shown 
Where with your own soul's sacredness you keep 
Myself — Myself whom you have made your own, 
And all unworthy, I can only weep. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 45 



XXXV 



r OVE, Love, I said, and straightway o'er my heart, 
-^ A passion'd sea with marvellous flooding swept, 
And on the shore, where I had stood apart 
And o'er the waves outgoing ceaseless wept 
Sudden my tears fell faster, for the tide 
Had swelled to turning — Beloved, I have known 
Rapture's whole scale and have been crucified 
With Love's renunciation till alone 
Weeping remained. Often I would have died, 
That death with its forgetfulness might heal ; 
I fear despair so much that I would hide 
From this sweet knowledge even lest it reveal 
Through throbbing waves of exquisite delight, 
The after coming of forlornest night. 



46 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XXXVI 

(~*0 not so soon away, dear heart, because 

^-* When you are gone, I feel some note estray. 

Music, upswelling, seems to drop away 

Into chromatics, and the sadness awes. 

I find, in what was fairest morning, flaws, 

And even the sunshine, struggling, seems to play 

As conscious of some want, and will not stay 

But follows you — obeying natural laws. 

Then when I look in your calm eyes, behold 

Their violet infinitudes in sight, 

The sun again grows passionate with gold, 

The Heavens seem palpitating with delight, 

And as the brooding shadows mountains fold, 

My Love enwraps, unwondering at your height. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 47 



XXXVII 



A ND day by day the mountain seems to grow 
"^ Enwrapt more royally in robes of state, 
As if with sight of thy young face elate, 
And the sun's flush is brighter, so to show 
It kissed thee first, to all the world below, 
And mountest guard at noontide, as to wait 
And know thy happy footsteps are not late, 
To bid the azure still more azure grow. 
And dost thou feel the joy, O sweet, and sing, 
And pluck the daisies in the flowery ways, 
And watch the butterflies on airy wing, 
Or some white cloud that tender o'er thee stays, 
Or dost thou, absent, turn thy golden ring 
Sad with increasing splendor of the days ? 



48 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XXXVIII 

IN ABSENCE 

TTOW can I bear the waiting, till you lay, 

In tender need, your pale pure hands in mine ? 
As Night lamenting crescent moon's decline 
I weary, in my loneness for one ray 
Of the great glory that is hidden away. 
Wherefore delay, when darkest dark is mine ? 
Thou art the presence making Night divine, 
Nor this alone — thou art the sun for Day, 
Thou art the star of Morning shining high, 
Thou art the Evening star with light intense, 
Thou art the stars' path flung across the sky 
Bridging all Heaven with its magnificence. 
Yet were not earth so low and Heaven so high, 
How could I measure Love's omnipotence? 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 49 



XXXIX 



TTOW long it seems, Love, since your last good- 

* ■*• night ! 

To-morrows and to-morrows yet have flown 

And thrice the lily's chalices have known 

The morning dews, and on their petals white 

The butterflies with wings of dazzling light 

Have stooped, enthroned, and drank the drops that 

shone, 
And then with life's new knowledge upward flown : — 
So I, in these June days, have gained a height 
Larger than when that last good-night I spake. 
I have stood radiant on Love's sweet brink, 
Seeing the waters rise that I might drink 
And my soul's thirst in its pure waters slake, 
Nor doubted power of Love's new wings, to break 
To a new Heaven divine as angels think. 



5° A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XL 



T WENT and looked up to the summer sky 

When you were gone, O sweet, that I might stay 
Unreached by words, and life's new fulness lay 
Beyond the snowy clouds that drifted by ; 
I could not place you in my thoughts too high, 
You were inseparate from the golden day, 
And Nature veined with you, in some sweet way, 
I felt its strong, swift pulses swifter fly : — 
Ah, since I know you all the world is fair, 
The notes I miss in harmonies you lend, 
I say I love you, almost unaware, 
Yet say it as some message I might send 
Across the skies through Heaven's diviner air 
To saintly soul of some immortal friend. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XLI 



r\ NIGHTINGALE that singest to the rose, 

^^ Lend me thy voice my Love's return to sing, 

And blow, ye breezes, and the tidings bring 

To every flower that in the valley grows. 

The humming-bird may hear it, as he blows 

His scarlet trumpet, and on airy wing 

The whole vine's trumpets sound until they ring 

All through the air sweet secret that he knows. 

But thou, O sky, ineffably divine, 

Thou wilt not need be told, for thou wilt lean 

And see her kneeling at thy azure shrine, 

And she will meet thine eyes with look serene 

Waiting her welcome, till with flushing fine 

Thou smil'st, as queen who meets another queen. 



52 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XLII 

A ND thou, butterfly with yellow wings 
"^^ Like banners for some festal day unfurled, 
Go, flaunt them in the sunshine through the world, 
As one that news of some great jubilee brings, 
And O ye wild bees with your golden rings 
Decked as for marriage, ere the dews are hurled 
From out the lilies in their cups impearled, 
Tell it to Heaven that knows divinest things, 
And I will walk the ways with noiseless feet 
As in a temple sacred set apart, 
Where feast of Love is spread, and I will meet 
This solemn glory with a solemn heart, 
And Thou wilt not reproach me that I eat 
O Thou sweet Christ — because all Love Thou art. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 53 



XLIII 



'"PHOU gavest me a flower last time we met, 

A shining lily, and then turned away, 
And all the glory faded from the day, 
And even the lily died with its regret. 
And since — I count the suns that rise and set 
To know thy coming, and oft turn to stray 
Along the river's brink, and watch the sway 
Of lilies rocked as rocks my amulet. 
And when the moon wakes, and the current's flow 
Upon the shore in sweet beseeching dies, 
I wonder if the moon's base heart will show 
The love and longing in mine own that lies, 
If in some occult moment thou wilt know 
More than the river's music or its sighs? 



54 ^ CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XLIV 

f~\ WIND, blow softly 'cross the mountain peaks, 
^-^^ Blow softly south till thou shalt kiss the gold 
Of my beloved's hair : thou canst be bold 
To touch her brow, or lightly fan her cheeks, 
Be bold, and waft me back each word she speaks, 
Yet but to Heaven her dreams she may unfold, 
To whip-poor-will alone her heart be told, 
And chance some higher messenger she seeks. 
Softly blow, soft darkness floods the west, 
And a pale star is shining soft and clear, 
And through the purple distance, from its nest, 
The voice of a lone whip-poor-will I hear 
Plaintive with pain of its love-laden breast ; 
And hush ! yon great star shines like Heaven's warm 
tear. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 55 



XLV 

TTERE is midsummer — let midsummer, bold 

In its omnipotence of beauty, say 
What is too high for words — let golden lay 
Of some new radiant-plumaged bird, down rolled 
In notes of silvery tenderness, unfold 
Love's mighty power — let morning sunbeams stay 
Transfixed in the azalias' breasts, till they 
Are turned with rapture's passion into gold. 
Let scarlet moons, like Night's great hearts of fire, 
Beat silently o'er roses, till they know 
Their tides run red, and life's new forces throw 
To perfumes beating upward higher and higher, 
Nor even then can all the Summer show 
Pathos of my ineffable desire. 



56 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XLVI 

/~\ VIRGIN moon, upclimbing in the sky 

^-^ To waiting breast of Heaven, thou guardest fair 

The ocean's secrets, and with holy air, 

Like a pale nun that holds the cloister key, 

Thou lookest down in thy serenity 

Impenetrably deep, as to declare 

Thy light outstretched has barred in mysteries there 

Nor eyes of Night, nor even thyself can see. 

And from thy face I turn to the pure face 

Of my young Love, who knowest in her rapt way 

Secrets than thine more mighty, and whose place 

Is higher than thine, and yet consents to stay 

And flood my love's great sea with her white grace, 

Shining as thou, with light transcending day. 



A CYCLE OF SONA'ETS $7 



XLVII 



f~\ MY beloved, when I feel the glow 

^^^ Of thy pure radiant spirit meeting mine, 

I am uplifted to a joy divine, 

And in thy presence holier-hearted grow. 

All things are new — I feel the rush and glow 

Of mighty currents, and am drowned in shine 

Of an immortal Sun, nor can give sign, 

But only into trembling silence go. 

' Deep answers unto deep ' — listening I hear 

Through spaces far, a voice star-noted rise, 

And to its glittering height am lifted near, 

With the full glory falling on mine eyes 

I know no limits — all the way is clear. 

My soul with thine, song-plumaged, sweeps the skies. 






5§ A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



XLVIII 

'"PHE birds are seeking refuge, and the sky 

Like a great soul in travail shrouds its woe 
In sheets of blackness, and cold, shuddering, blow 
The affrighted leaves — and in the pastures by, 
The shrinking kine are huddling helplessly, 
And like huge monuments set up to show 
Some giant monarch's awful overthrow, 
In sable gulfs the crests of mountains lie. 
And thou, beloved — dost thou shrink to see 
Upon the horizon through great fissures break 
Blue flames, as if from fires of Hell set free, 
Or with the thunders' loosed artillery quake ? 
Or dost thou, holding in thy heart Love's key 
At feet of Christ, the sacrament partake ? 



A CYCLE OF SOiVA'ETS 59 



XLIX 



r "PHE birds are singing, and the storm is done, 

And the great soul of Heaven is hushed to rest, 
And the wet leaves are shining joy confessed, 
And the young lambs are glad, and one by one 
The herds go westward as to meet the sun — 
And a great glory lights the mountains' crest, 
As if the sleeping King were shriven and blessed, 
And had at last peace and oblivion won : 
Where art thou, best beloved ? dost thou hear 
The happy birds that sing, or see shine fair 
Upon the azure, growing deep and clear 
The great sun shaking out his sunset hair — 
Or dost thou to some messenger lend ear 
Whose name is Love, clad like thyself in prayer? 



6o A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



T BRING to you a rose divinely fair, 

By suns and moons and gentle dews caressed, 
To wear, beloved, on your happy breast 
That holdest all of summer unaware. 
Swift opening, it will throw upon the air 
Passion of fragrance, in divine unrest — 
As haunting thoughts, that written with tears, attest 
The song divine is altar of despair : 
O love, the rose is tragedy — to-day 
In mystery of its bloom it may unclose, 
To-morrow crushed, it may be flung away, 
Yet if at last, from your young heart it goes 
However brief its joy, who would not say 
Better than life less sweet to be a dead, dead rose. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 61 



LI 



HTHE August moon in the pale sky hangs low 

As yearning to thy heart, beloved, where 
All summer beauty lies, and shining fair 
Floods thy dear face with a mysterious glow ; 
Thou seem'st a vision 'mid the flowers that blow, 
And leaves above thee tremble in the air 
As of the moonlight and of thee aware, 
And from thy lips strange music seems to flow. 
O vision beautiful, I breathe a sigh 
Lest thou be wafted like some saint away : — 
Nearer thy heart the young moon seems to lie, 
As if to pierce it with some Heavenly ray, 
Yet were the moon out-blotted from the sky 
The void would pulse with light if thou but stay. 



62 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LII 



TJ*ROM out my dreaming soul — kept all unseen • 

I take its warmest colors, to portray 
Thy happy face, beloved, that day by day 
Is lifted into beauty more serene, 
And wear'st unconsciously a loftier mien 
As if thou heard'st the planets on their way, 
And to their music tuned, could'st scarcely stay 
Thy wings from traversing the height between ; 
And yet howe'er I strive the tints seem cold. 
What is divine, O sweet, I cannot paint — 
Thy mouth's curve, eyes' expression may be bold, 
But hues of Love itself were all too faint, 
Unless from out Love's sun I take the gold 
And round thy brow draw halo of a Saint. 



A CYCLE OF SOiVNETS 63 



LIII 

r\ SAPPHIRE Ocean stretching to the sky, 

^^ Whereon the white ships glide, and glide from 

sight, 
Let thy great heart heave with supreme delight, 
And, on the shore where pebbles glittering lie, 
Let thy soft waves sing with new ecstasy, 
And break upon the rocks with foam more white, 
And gentler rock the sea-gulls stayed in flight — 
For my beloved unto thee is nigh, 
And does her hair upon the wind-blown beach 
Like rays of gold in the deep sunlight shine, 
And does she hear thy undertone beseech, 
And list the sea-shells that the hollows line, 
And does she, as she hears their murmuring speech, 
Ponder if it is Love's deep tone or thine? 



64 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LIV 

T^HOU wert stretched motionless, O sea, in maze 

Of light ineffable, borne from the west, 
And the red sun had bared his burning breast 
Ere he should plunge to thee, and his last rays 
Had flung great opals o'er thy chrysoprase 
In dazzling lines of changing fires to rest, 
And one great ship, as if in glory quest, 
Moved slowly on, with rainbows all ablaze ; 
And we, we watched the crimson clouds go by, 
And flush to rose the shore erewhile so white, 
And saw a phantom ship that sailed on high, 
Mirage of rainbowed ship still left in sight, 
And through the channel of the sunset sky 
Seemed sailing in that Heavenly ship to light. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LV 



A ND like a ship on fire adown the west 
"^ The red sun sailed and sailed, and still we stayed 
To watch the coming of the twilight shade, 
And lo ! the moon came up, as if in quest 
Of the slow sinking ship, that seemed to breast 
The heated waves until the wreck was laid, — 
And even then the scattered fires essayed 
Of the whole sky's expanse to be possessed, 
And when the fires died out, and calm and white 
Shone out the tranquil moon, I drew thee nigh, 
And saw upon thy face a mystic light, 
A happy look, unutterably high, 
And kissed thee, trembling lest from out my sight 
Thou, too, should'st melt like glory from the sky. 



66 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LVI 

A S scarlet flowers upon the coast give sign 

— When in wild, fragile loveliness they grow — 
Of the day's coming sun or shadow, so 
Love can, when watched by Love, its moods divine, 
Feeling the distant rain's o'erhanging line, 
As leaves that into sudden shrinking go 
With countless dreams all tingled into woe 
It cannot clear, yet cannot half define. 
Who can gainsay this subtle power that sweeps 
Two souls to harmony so fine and true 
That while one measures loss, the other weeps 
As o'er a darkened grave whose sods are new ! 
My heart with thine such perfect measure keeps 
Thy pangs are borne as in mine own they grew. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 67 



LVII 

T SAT one day with ocean at my feet 

Dreaming, O my beloved, of Love and thee, 
And saw the passion of the fuller sea 
As into it the wild waves madly beat, 
And heard the music of their slow retreat 
Smiting the shore like sighs of ecstasy, 
That left thereon the sea-shell, as for me, 
Pink with the ocean's secrets vast and sweet, 
The blushing sea-shells, lying on the shore, 
— Though dreaming still, I can no longer see. 
The surges with their sobbing and their roar, 
Now thou art here, are silent unto me, 
And ocean at my feet cries out no more ; 
But I, I evermore cry out for thee. 



68 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LVIII 

T OVE, when I say ' I love you ' you will know 
"^ It means a passion hotter than despair ; 
It means, when skies are blue and days are fair, 
That clouds write out in shadows, as they go, 
My blissful secret on the grass below, — 
That sunsets flame it to the skies aware, — 
That thrushes sing it in the summer air, — 
That torrents tell it in their overflow : 
Yet should I say it, Love, it were in vain 
Unless your soul knew the same strange delight, 
Felt the same sweet, divine, unresting pain. 
And when I say it, all the heavens in sight 
With forked lightnings will be rent in twain, 
For storms alone can show my passion's might. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 69 



LIX 

/^OOD-NIGHT, beloved, let the dark enfold, 

^-* And brooding shadows in their purple grace 

Fall soft as sunshine on thy noble face, 

And all secure, as if the morning bold 

Were watching thee upon its throne of gold ; 

Let solemn night encompass and embrace, 

Let the moon watch thee from its lofty place, 

And the stars hush thy soul to peace untold : 

Sleep well, sleep well, and let thy silent palms 

— Like some white saint's, chance folded on thy 

breast — 
Shut softly in, the while you softly rest, 
Snowy infinities of snowy calms, 
A flood of dreams as heavenly sweet as psalms, 
And yet — wake, Love — I want the dreams expressed. 



?0 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LX 



TF thou vvouldst stay the tumult of my heart, 
Kiss me with thy calm lips so angel-wise 
Where Peace ineffable divinely lies, 
And on my brow, whose shadows will depart, 
A star will shine ; and drawn by Love's strange art 
To Love's new zone, kiss me as one who buys 
The bliss of Heaven from an abyss of sighs, 
And following thy wings will need no chart ; 
O virgin pure ! Kiss me to-day, to-night, 
To-morrow, all the days that come and go, 
Until my soul shall grow divinely white. 
Then kiss me, dead, and lend my spirit's flight 
Passion of impetus that I may know 
First, last, forever — Love is infinite. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 71 



LXI 



A ND yesterday the fleeting Summer went, 
And I was tender sad, because I knew 
That the wild roses' blooming time was through. 
But to my sadness thou wouldst not consent, 
And thou wert beautiful in thy content, 
And looking in thine eyes so gentian blue, 
I saw June stayed as things divinest do ; 
And in its perfect heart a Heaven was pent. 
And now to thee, gay plumes waft welcomes bold, 
As Spring's white lilies wafted welcomes shy ; 
And I look down upon the shining gold 
Of thy young sun-kissed hair, nor can deny 
This day is fair as Summer's self could hold 
Divine refrain to Summer's ecstasy. 



72 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 

LXII 
CHRISTMAS 

"D EVERENT I come, O sweet, with head bent low, 

To bring to you a gift more consecrate 
Than all beside : — I will ope wide the gate 
To Love's eternal anguish, and thus show 
What it will cost you if herein you go, 
That even rapture wrings and tears await 
The eyes that visions see : — nor yet too late 

— If shrinking from the shadow of my woe 
You say farewell, and turn from Love away — 
Yet if you stay, then I will be as true 

— Touching your lips in Christ's sweet name to-day — 
As life itself, as death itself, to you. 

Nor howsoe'er divine shall I dare say 

Worn on thy heart, Love's gift will not pierce through. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 73 



LXIII 



A LTHOUGH the pallid sun delays to rise, 
^*" And swift declines as if to shun the snow, 
It is not Winter — nay, though tempests blow, 
And rifts of fallen sleet may frozen rise 
To crown the hills, and 'neath the lowering skies 
Beckon weird trees, yet like a sun I know 
The warmth of thy dear presence, and its glow 
Lights up my way, and to my happy eyes 
No June where blooms the rose, though set apart 
For its resplendent skies — were half as fair. 
Divinest dreams shape radiant in my heart 
The perfect Summer, and Love's rose is there. 
O rose from Heaven, a fugitive thou art, 
And as still left in Heaven thy thorns forbear. 



74 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LXIV 

T READ a legend in my earlier years 

■*■ Of Moorish princess decked, when lying dead, 

With rose that on her silent heart grew red 

— Though white when placed — wet with her lover's 

tears. 
O sweet ! the legend unto me appears 
But as a truth, for shouldst thou bend thy head, 
And breathe my name with sighs, I should be led 
To break death's seal and smile, as one who hears. 
And shouldst thou, like that poet lover, place 
A white rose on my heart, I should forget 
That I were dead, and feel the red blood race 
Through my chilled veins until the rose it met. 
And though I died again, of thy fair face 
Should dream in Heaven, and even in Heaven regret. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 75 



LXV 



A S print of noiseless centuries is shown 
^*- On the veined crystal — so, dear, I would lead 
Through my soul's eras to its present need ; 
You are so dear to me that you have known 
How each new vein within my heart has grown 
— Wrought from the force of pain — nor do I heed 
That side by side with pain this joy you read ; 
Nay ! I am glorified my Love to own. 
Dear, I have known such anguish it may mark 
My Love a crystal, chance you will not scorn ; 
I am no longer compassed with the dark, 
But thy great love across my heart is borne 
Spanning it with radiance of an arc 
Transfiguring it as the sun transfigures morn. 



76 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LXVI 

T SOMETIMES think, O love, it would be sweet 

To be a statue, hewn to marble sleep, 
And never through my veins to feel the sweep 
Of passionate emotions running fleet ; 
Never again life's tragedies to meet, 
Never above beloved graves to weep, 
Nor even again to see thine eyes that keep 
Heaven's light, as if my longing to complete. 
But empty then the silence that were mine, 
And peace were nought to an untired breast. 
Nay! rather let death lift to sleep divine, 
But do not stoop, O Love, to kiss me, lest 
— While in thy heavenly eyes hot tears might shine — 
My loosened heart should beat, won from its new-found 
rest. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 77 



LXVII 



T SENT thee roses that they might unfold, 

And tender breathe what I can never say ; 
Yet only when their leaves have dropt away, 
And they have bared to thee their hearts of gold, 
Giving thee all, beloved, shall I hold 
That they the longings of my soul obey : 
Thus, with supreme devotion, I would lay 
My whole heart down, and then weep Love untold. 
Love ! Let Love weep ! or else its joy might make 
A burden too divinely sweet to bear, 
Yet who would shrink one pang the more to take 
— Breasting a tide tumultuous as despair — 
If tired with sorrow, bliss the heart should break, 
And Death, eternity of Love declare. 



78 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LXVIII 

T AM not fretted, though I oft recall 

I am thy slave, yet chosen thy slave to be 
Were more than if all others should decree 
A royal sceptre mine, for I might fall 
From sovereignty, and seek to hide like Saul, 
Yet in some silent way to watch o'er thee, 
To worship thee as star, yet leave thee free, 
What kingdom could compare with such sweet thrall ! 
Heavy upon thy soul the world's woes rest, 
Thy pitying hands are constant reached to save. 
If I could bear thy pangs within my breast 
Wounded to death, this only would I crave 
For my great love that thou shouldst stand confessed 
I died as King who lived content as slave. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 79 



LXIX 



/^~\FT when I look in thy young eyes that beam 

^-^ With the remembered joys of Heaven, and hear 

Thy words' sweet music fit for angel's ear, 

I wonder not that Beatrice was theme 

Of Dante's song, or that in every dream 

She held celestial sway, for it is clear 

Thy love has the same spell, and lights appear 

As from their Paradise on me to shine. 

Ah, through what wondrous spheres I have been led : 

And could my soul gain stature fit for thine, 

The living were eclipsed, and all the dead, 

For Genius nor any fame is mine, 

But thou hast placed upon my uncrowned head 

A crown than even Dante's more divine. 



8o A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LXX 

T OFTEN think, Love, you were waked from sleep 

Of some white Goddess so divinely fair 
Your beauty smote to life ; and all aware 
You blushed and smiled and could no longer keep 
The cold white silence, but with sudden leap 
To fire divine, drew to your flooding hair 
— As if the glory of the sun to share — 
Its dazzling rays above your brow to sweep. 
And looking at the pathos of your eyes, 
I dreamed that Heaven so all-enamored grew, 
It gave back all the light that in it lies, 
And wakened ecstasy of life in you, 
Till stirred by music of the centuries, 
In your tranced marble veins the blood poured through. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 81 



LXXI 

IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY 

T OVE has no country, sweet, Love has no place 

- L ' In dim cathedral, where the shadows bide, 

And the majestic dead sleep side by side. 

From Poets' sculptured calm I turn to trace 

How their immortal voices rolled through space, 

How all the muffling mists of Time defied, 

And smitten by their echoes, like a tide 

My thoughts engulf me — as in high embrace 

I feel thy living warmth — I sweep the air — 

I cleave the sea — I melt to thee afar. 

My heart's fire bursts to flame and in its glare, 

The sun's rays but as arrowed shadows are : 

Awhile the heavens enwrap me, and I share 

On its blue breast white mystery of a star. 



82 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LXXII 

f~* O, restless world, whose pleasures are not new, 

^^ And careless of my presence pass me by. 

I want to lay my heart against the sky, 

And let Love's mighty symphony beat through. 

Nay more, I want to kiss away its blue 

And find myself ethereal, in a high 

White dream of my beloved, that will fly 

And silently her happy thoughts pursue. 

The very sun has softly veiled its light, 

As if it knew that I would shun its glare, 

And when in darkness I am hidden from sight 

Ere the sweet, loitering moon shines out aware, 

Then I will kiss, unseen, the air of night, 

And let it float itself to Heaven, a prayer. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 83 



LXXIII 



T STAND abased at your great love for me, 

Because your soul is mountains higher than mine. 
And yet, O Love, I count it not as sign 
Of worth in me, though I can better see 
Lifted to your Love's height what Love may be, 
But only from the sun's rays comes the shine 
On sighing seas, — and hand that pours the wine 
Sets what were else the prisoned sparkle free. 
Knowing where you have placed me, I could weep 
The impotence that holds me lower down, 
I would aspire if but your love to keep, 
And so made royal, wear it for my crown. 
Nay, dying, it will be enough renown 
If you but sigh for me the while I sleep. 



84 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LXXIV 

f~\ TENDER eyes with meanings infinite, 

^-^ ' Look into mine again,' I turned to say 

In the pale golden light of dying day — 

Look up once more and say to me, Good-night, 

For I have fever-thirst that only sight 

Of thy young face, soft smiling, can allay. 

And for the music bluebirds make in May 

I languish, till I hear thy footsteps light. 

Ah ! such a wistful, foolish heart is mine, 

I half forget how long the way that lies 

Betwixt the Spring's first coming and its sign. 

Sweet ! say good-night once more ere sunset dies, 

And hidden joy of Spring I may divine, 

Seeing the early violets in thine eyes. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 85 



LXXV 



/^FT-TIMES, belove'd, when I waken at night, 

^~^ I eager search my soul, and scan it well, 

That I some loftier thoughts to thee may tell, 

When I shall see thee in the morning's light. 

I cannot scale Olympus, and the sight 

Of dreams that baffle me, is like a knell 

Rung over mighty graves : there is no Hell 

Like that to which men sink from ungained height. 

I would be great thy greater soul to read, 

To better understand thine eyes divine 

That are to me the proofs of Heaven indeed ; 

I am unworthy to worship at thy shrine, 

Yet gods might envy, since thou hast decreed, 

Despite my failures, that thy heart is mine. 



86 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LXXVI 

"IV /TY Love awaits me with expectant eyes, 

^ *~ Lest on her threshold I unseen should stand, 

And she be not the first to take my hand, 

And give me countless welcomes such as rise 

From souls of angels needing no disguise. 

My heart is by her Love auroral spanned, 

And I forget the pleasures I have planned 

In greater one that being near her, lies, 

And as upon the heavens the planets shine, 

Her soul holds sphere on sphere of high desire 

That 'neath her bosom's snow are rayed in fire, 

And place in every radiant sphere is mine. 

Nor can I fitting sing, until divine 

In Love's own place I hold Love's perfect lyre. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 87 



LXXVII 

HPHOU took'st me once to an Arcadian dell 

To hear a waterfall its music throw 
In rushing symphonies to gulfs below ; 
And what the path we took I cannot tell, 
I only know each wild-flower held a spell 
As blown in Heaven, and that thy feet below 
The shadows into rainbows seemed to grow, 
And every rainbow led to Heaven as well. 
There must be days in Love, as days in Spring, 
When light is so omnipotent, it stays 
With hush of splendor, bluebirds poised to sing : 
But mine was hush that falls on one who prays, 
For at thy feet I seemed to see outswing 
Two noiseless gates with jasper all ablaze. 



88 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LXXVIII 

"T^EAR ! In some larger life your soul will know 

*-^ How fathomless the Love that in me lies, 

And I shall look with calm, untroubled eyes 

Into your own, and starry-winged shall go 

— Shaping my course with yours — the while I know 

The space's magnitudes through which we rise, 

Unmarvelling at the white infinities 

That round and in us both will seem to flow. 

Then with the mystic glory angels share, 

Heart of my heart, you will look down on me, 

And know the earthly shackles that we bear 

From pinnacles of Pain are smitten free, 

That in the great eternal otherwhere 

Love's largest power is Love's large liberty. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS 89 



LXXIX 



\70U brought me as an Easter offering 

Annunciation lilies pure and fair ; 
Haply you knew that brighter flowers might bear 
My memories to pain, awakening 
Significant regrets these would not bring — 
Sweet, when they shall have died they will not share 
The fate of other flowers, for I shall wear 
Forever in my heart their hint of spring. 
Haunted with their sweet perfumes I shall keep, 
And as some gift divine your love shall hide, 
What wonder holding that I cannot sleep, 
And sleepless that I seem to stand beside 
A sea whose waves are gathering force to leap 
And drown my heart with joy's unfathomed tide. 



9° A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LXXX 

T WONDER not, sweet, that my words convey, 

Because less high than thine, a sense of wrong 
Thou'rt like a soaring lark, that stayest song 
Because its mate Heaven-lifted cannot stay, 
Yet who is so song-brimmed that the delay 
Tears its own bosom till the sweet notes throng, 
And spite the shadow it is borne along 
To a fine rapture, as is oft thy way — 
And I am shriven, sweet, when my heart I show, 
Thou knowest what pain is mine to hear thy sighs. 
Thou art the golden light to which I go, 
The Heaven-swept lark within whose music lies 
Divinest pathos of divinest woe, 
Poured to an avalanche of melodies. 






A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LXXXI 



r\ LOVE, how shall I celebrate this day ! — 

^^ This day when thy sweet angelhood began, 

When earth was all so glad its joy o'erran 

In lilies clustering round the new-born May. 

The Heaven's great banner spreads above thy way, 

And music multiplies, and bluebirds scan 

The sunrise o'er thee singing as Love can 

In Love's great chorus, with no note astray ; 

And were the voices of the Spring all mine, 

Ecstatic voices with ecstatic themes, 

Too faint my song to lay upon thy shrine, 

Though higher than birds or winds or loosened streams 

For thou art tuned to music more divine 

And hearest fairer, even in thy dreams. 






92 A CYCLE OF SONNETS 



LXXXII 

TF I should be pursued by dark-winged Pain, 
And stand 'neath shadow of his awful eyes, 
What power would come to soothe my burning sighs - 
How should I ever smile at Peace again? 
For in Pain's grasp, my stony face I fain 
Should wish to hide, lest the old tragedies 
Might in the whirlpool of new anguish rise, 
And bring me back my dead despairs again. 
Then still and cold as death if I should show 
Passion of an illimitable woe, 
So great, nor even your love could bear away, 
So strong, nor even the Heaven above could sway — 
Hide me within your heart — and let me stay 
Till warmed to life my frozen tears should flow. 



A CYCLE OF SONNETS. 93 



LXXXIII 



r\ PITYING Christ, couldst not this cup forbear? 
^^ Where shall I wander in my quenchless woe ? 
Not where the moon with pallid heart yearns low 
— Wasted and wan — as of some loss aware, 
Not where the lights of countless stars will flare 
As hurrying toward a fairer star they go, 
Not where the cruel Sun will dazzling show, 
To flowers that still can bloom, its wanton glare. 
What shall assuage this tearless agony ? 
Canst Thou not touch her heavy-lidded eyes, 
Canst Thou not bid her rise and speak to me 
Who liest smiling as with glad surprise ? 
Hast Thou too died, O Christ? then let me flee 
Into the night — made black with Calvarys. 



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